


One Deep Breath and One Big Step

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke Griffin has been groomed for Ark University and Sigma Kappa Upsilon sorority since she was a kid, and she's a little annoyed to discover, upon getting to college, that she really does like Sig-Kap. That she wants to pledge.There's just this weird thing where they don't seem to like her new friend Bellamy.





	One Deep Breath and One Big Step

One of the first pictures of Clarke that exists is her in a Sigma Kappa Upsilon onesie, lying in her crib and staring up at the camera. She doesn't have teeth or hair yet, but she's already branded as a future sister.

Fittingly, she looks a little dubious about it.

Clarke isn't totally against sororities, as a concept. There's some appeal to going to college and having a built-in social group, people who will have her back and support her. As an only child, she's always wished she had a brother or a sister, and that's what a sorority is supposed to be. A sisterhood. It's not hard to want that.

But there's the same problem with the Sig-Kaps that there is with her whole life, which is that it has nothing to do with _her_. She's a legacy, just like she was a legacy at Arcadia University. It doesn't feel like a part of _her_ ; it feels like a part of her mother. Of her family.

Which is why it's so annoying when rush starts and she actually likes them.

She's expecting a house full of girls with whom she has all the superficial things in common: they're all going to be wealthy and decently attractive and varying kinds and degrees of accomplished. Good grades, good extracurriculars, involved in charity. She could fit in with people like that. She could make it work. Clarke knows how to be a perfect little rich girl.

But college seems like the time to figure out how to be something else.

She's made up her mind by the time rush starts that she's not going to like her mom's sorority, but then she sees their house. They have a "Black Lives Matter" banner prominently displayed to the left of the door, and on the right not only a rainbow flag, but bi, pan, ace, and trans flags too. From her research, Clarke knows that Sig-Kap doesn't bill itself as an LGBT-friendly sorority--that's Theta Rho Iota--so these choices seem more indicative of this particular chapter than the entire sisterhood. Which is encouraging. And she does like them, from what she sees during rush week. They're still largely rich girls, but not as white and as rich as she expected, and they're more concerned with academics than social standing.

It feels more like where Clarke _wants_ to be, more like she's being Clarke Griffin than Abby Griffin's daughter, and that matters. It feels like what she would pick, if she was picking for herself.

"It _does_ ," she insists.

"It does," agrees the very cute guy she's talking to. "I only got about half of it, and that half was the part that involved you being seriously underage, but, yeah. Whatever you're talking about definitely matters."

His tone doesn't feel quite right, and that gets her attention, enough to glare at him. "Don't tell me you're a cop." Then the rest of it catches up. "And I'm not underage! I'm eighteen. That's age."

"That's definitely age," he agrees, sounding amused. "That's a real thing sober people say. Which is exactly what you should be saying, because I meant underage for drinking." He taps her cup, and her scowl deepens.

"There's no way you're surprised about underage drinking. You're at a _frat party_. It's like ninety-percent underage drinking and illicit drug use."

He's not exactly smiling, but half of his mouth is turned up, and the more she talks, the higher it goes. She'd be offended, but he is _really_ cute. And the half smirk is a good look on him.

"I just had you pegged for a junior."

She perks up. "Really?"

He takes a sip of his own drink. "Congratulations on being a pretty mature drunk, I guess."

"How old are _you_?"

"Twenty-one."

"Senior?" 

"I'm pretty sure I'm the most senior person here, yeah," he agrees. Which seems like a weird way to put it, but he seems like a weird guy. He considers her critically, and she returns the favor. He has hipster glasses and a lot of freckles, and she wants to play with his hair for like fifteen hours. 

He's probably seeing an awkward kid who can't handle her liquor very well, but she's at least an awkward kid with pretty great breasts, if she does say so herself. She hopes he's appreciating those.

"Have you ever seen any girl movies about Greek life?"

"Define _girl movie_ ," she says.

"Movies with a target audience of teenage girls," he says. "So, no _Revenge of the Nerds_ or _Animal House_. Stuff like, uh-- _Sydney White_."

"Wow. That is a surprising reference from a twenty-one-year-old guy."

"I've got a little sister. She had an Amanda Bynes phase."

"I have seen some girl movies about Greek life. And also some porn about frat boys experimenting with their sexuality," she adds, just to see how he'll react.

He doesn't, which is kind of nice all by itself. "Cool, I'm glad you're well-rounded." He clucks his tongue. "Anyway. If there's one thing I learned from teen girl movies, it's that if you're joining your mom's sorority even though you're not sure it's _you_ , then by the end of the semester you will have gotten some stuck-up girl as a nemesis, defeated her, and started dating the head of one of the fraternities. And also learned to love yourself and people who aren't like you. Basically everyone."

"I think those stories are always about poor girls," Clarke says. "I'm a rich girl who doesn't fit in, so I'm not sure it applies."

"Yeah, rich girls who don't fit in are the tragic untold story," says the guy. "The important thing is, whatever happens, you're going to be fine. Wherever you rush, even if you don't rush. I promise it's not a big deal."

Clarke squints at him. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"It was either that or try to make you feel worse."

She laughs. "Well, when you put it like that, thanks."

"No problem." He worries his lip, which is--really attractive. God. It's hard to tell how much of it is real hotness and how much is just the alcohol, but even if he's only half as hot as he looks right now, he's still incredibly hot. "I hope it works out for you, Clarke."

"Did I tell you my name?"

"I got a lot of your life story."

"Did I get your name?"

"No. It's Bellamy."

"Okay, well--thanks for listening, Bellamy. I--"

"Clarke!"

It's one of the other rushes, Harper. She's a Sig-Kap legacy, like Clarke, and they think it's pretty likely they'll be roommates if they're picked to pledge. Which they probably will be. Clarke likes her, even if she's somehow even more drunk than Clarke is right now, and currently trying to climb Clarke's back.

"Hi, Harper," she says, giving Bellamy an apologetic smile.

"Anya said I should get you. And we should do--stuff. I don't know. Official things."

"Official things sound pretty important," Bellamy says, raising his solo cup to her. "Definitely get going."

"Sorry, hot boy!" says Harper. "I'll get her back to you if I can."

"Good luck with the whole sorority thing," he says, and Clarke manages to thank him before Harper is dragging her off.

"Sorry for cockblocking," Harper says, thankfully once they're out of the way. "I was under very strict orders. He's hot, but not hot enough to risk pledging Sig-Kap, right?"

It wasn't like Clarke had really thought she was going to get laid anyway. Even before he'd figured out she was only eighteen, which seemed to kind of matter to him, she hadn't necessarily gotten that vibe. Her best-case scenario had been making out some and getting his number. Which she would have liked, but even that had felt unlikely by the end.

But it doesn't feel impossible globally. He's a frat guy, she's going to be a sorority girl. They'll see each other again.

Anya gives her a somewhat critical once-over once she and Harper arrive. As the president of their chapter, Anya's influence is all over Sig-Kap, and Clarke finds her both inspiring and intimidating. She wants to be Anya when she grows up, but she's not sure she's scary enough yet.

Something to work on.

"Pledge," says Anya, even though it's not official yet. "Were you talking to Bellamy Blake?"

"Apparently," says Clarke, frowning. "He didn't give me his last name."

"Don't bother with him. You can do better."

It's simultaneously confusing and a little flattering; Clarke didn't think Anya had any opinions on how she could do, romantically speaking. But it seems weird to dismiss Bellamy. He seemed like a good guy, from what he could see. If anything, Clarke feels like _he_ could do better, being older and handsome and kind of charming. He's clearly not interested in awkward first years.

But it seems weird to talk about with Anya, so she just says, "Thanks. What do you need?"

It's not a big deal, either way. He's just a guy.

*

Being in Sigma Kappa is exactly how Clarke hoped it would be, even when she didn't allow herself to hope for it. She likes the other pledges, and likes her big even more, a sharp, passionate girl named Luna. All of the upperclassmen feel like people Clarke wants to be herself: rich and smart and engaged, aware of their many privileges and trying to use them for good. They aren't perfect, but they're trying, and they make Clarke feel like she can try too. Like she can do it. They're the support net she always wanted, and it makes navigating college feel manageable and exciting, instead of daunting. These are people she likes and trusts, and it's thrilling to find that that's the case.

But she still can't help looking for Bellamy at parties, while trying to tell herself she's not. Less because of whatever opinions Anya might have of him and more because it feels--well, _juvenile_. It wasn't a big deal. He probably forgot about it, she should too.

But it does nag at her a little, the fact that she _doesn't_ see him. Maybe he's stuck up or something. He comes to the first party of the year and then that's it; he's done associating with everyone.

Not that it matters, of course. She just doesn't like loose ends. And she wants to know what Anya's history with him is, but she can't just _ask_ that. She can't even ask Luna, not without an excuse. And as long as Bellamy doesn't come to parties, she doesn't have an excuse.

Which is why she has mixed feelings about running into him at a coffee shop.

It's Tuesday afternoon, and she's not really at her best. She couldn't sleep because she was stressing about a test, which just made her do worse on the test, and then she had an endless biology lab. By four o'clock, she's exhausted and cranky, and buying herself a needlessly fancy, incredibly caffeinated drink seems like the best solution. And a cupcake. She deserves a cupcake too.

She's waiting for the drink when she sees Bellamy. He's sitting alone at a table, dressed in a navy polo shirt and blue jeans, with his glasses sliding down his nose as he reads a battered paperback. He's got earbuds in, and he's bobbing his head along to a beat Clarke can't hear.

Even just in profile, he's just as attractive as she remembered. Maybe more attractive.

"Clarke!" calls the guy behind the counter, and she takes her drink and hesitates for a moment. She'd been planning to just leave, to eat back in the house. And even if she doesn't leave, there are plenty of free tables. There's no reason for her to sit with Bellamy.

He looks up when she stands by his side, and when she smiles, he smiles back and takes his earbuds out. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Clarke, right?" he asks. "The sorority girl who thinks she's not going to fit in even though she was underage drinking like a champ."

It shouldn't make her smile, but his voice is warm, and the teasing note seems friendly. So she sits down in the seat across from him, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

"I know I'm going to fit in," she says. "I just don't know if it's where I want to be."

"Oh, yeah, never mind. Now I definitely care about your problems."

"Movies and TV have conditioned you to feel like rich white girls demand your sympathy," Clarke agrees, and he smiles again.

"That must be it." He pauses, like he can't quite make up his mind, but he finally asks, "So, did you pledge?"

"Yeah."

"Sigma Kappa Upsilon?"

"Yeah." It's her turn to consider. Asking him feels like a betrayal of sisterhood or something, but--she _is_ curious. "You know Anya, right?"

He shrugs. "Kind of. Not very well. She seems cool."

"Yeah, I like her," says Clarke, and they drift into a kind of awkward silence. It was easy to talk to him when she was drunk, but--she was drunk. That always makes it easier. And she was hoping he'd offer some unprompted insight.

He clears his throat. "So, how's your first semester aside from the sorority? I assume you have classes."

"No, it's just all Greek life, all the time," she teases. "Just like in _Sydney White_."

He groans good-naturedly. "I thought you might have been too drunk to remember that I referenced _Sydney White_."

"Sorry. Those are the memories that last, Bellamy."

"Great."

"My semester's going okay. I just got out of my bio lab, which I think might kill me, but if it doesn't, I guess it's going to make me stronger."

"That's how I hear it works, yeah."

"What about you?"

He cocks his head. "What about me?"

"How's your semester going?"

"Oh." He drums his fingers on his book. "Fine. Same as always."

"What's your major?"

He opens and closes his mouth, huffs out an irritable breath. Before he can say anything, someone says, "Bell, do you have a friend?"

Clarke turns to see a girl, probably a year or two younger than she is, with long brown hair and sharp eyes. She's watching Clarke with a wariness that Clarke doesn't quite get. She could be jealous, but--if Clarke is too young, this girl is _way_ too young.

"I think we're just acquaintances, don't get too excited. I'd ask if you were waiting long, but I know you can't keep your mouth shut, so you must have just gotten here." He stands, smiling at Clarke a little. "Sorry, we have to head out."

"You're not even going to introduce me?" the girl demands.

Bellamy shoulders his backpack. "Octavia, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is my sister, Octavia. She just finished with practice, so I have to get her home."

"You can stay if you want," says his sister. "I can be home alone, Bell."

"Well, I'm hungry, so I want to go home and get some dinner." He shoots Clarke a smile. "Duty calls, sorry. But it was good to see you again." He bites the corner of his mouth. "I usually go to Delta Nu parties. If you, uh--if you go to those."

Clarke doesn't tend to pay much attention to which frats are hosting parties, but it does sound kind of plausible that she hasn't been to any Delta Nu ones lately. She doesn't even know any Deltas. Except for, possibly, Bellamy.

She'll admit it doesn't really sound like he's a Delta, though.

"Can I underage drink there?" she asks, and he laughs.

"It's college. You can underage drink everywhere. You can't," he adds to his sister, wrapping his arm around her head. "You're going home."

"You're a dick!" she protests, and Bellamy waves with his free hand over his shoulder as he goes.

"See you, Clarke!" he adds, making her smile.

At least she has somewhere to look for him.

*

"Is Delta Nu doing anything this weekend?" she asks Luna on Friday.

Luna looks surprised, and then her expression softens into a smile. "Delta Nu?"

"Yeah. Like a party."

"Now, why would you want to go to a Delta Nu party? I don't think I know any of the pledges, but there are some good Deltas." She frowns. "I hope it's not Miller. He's gay."

"It's not Miller," says Clarke. "I don't know Miller."

It's the wrong thing, because _it's not this person_ implies that it's someone else.

"Good," says Luna. "So, who is it?"

"It's not--" Clarke huffs. "It's not _like that_. I don't think he's even a Delta. And we're not--we're just kind of friends." Luna just gives her an expectant look, and Clarke sighs. "It's this guy, Bellamy? He said he went to Delta Nu parties."

"Oh," says Luna. Her tone is not encouraging, and Clarke tries not to glare.

But her voice comes out sharp when she asks, "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing. But--he's not--" She sighs. "There's no way to say this without sounding like a snob, but he's a _townie_. He doesn't go to school here. He doesn't go to school at all. He goes to Delta parties because he went to high school with Miller, but he's not a student."

Clarke takes a second, thinks it over. Luna looks sheepish, so at least she _knows_. But Clarke still can't help saying, "Yeah, that really does make you sound like a snob."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with--god. He seems like a good guy. But there's no future there, you know? Every year, there's some girl who meets him and thinks he's a catch, and it never works out. He's basically--" Luna huffs. "We're still in school, and he's an adult supporting himself who gets drunk with us sometimes. I don't think he's awful or anything, and if you want to hook up with him we could probably make it happen for you, but--don't get your hopes up."

It's like being dunked in cold water. Not the part where it doesn't work out, but where this is a _pattern_. Where she's the next in a long line of first years who think Bellamy might be a good romantic prospect and are wrong about it. It shouldn't really be a surprise, given he's attractive and (mostly) charming and hangs out at frat parties sometimes, but it still stings.

"I just think he's fun to talk to," Clarke says. It's true, but it doesn't feel as true as it did a few minutes ago. "I think we're kind of friends."

Luna seems to be thinking it over, and based on her gentle, slightly pained smile, Clarke doesn't think she buys it. But all she says is, "I'll see if there are any Delta parties this weekend. Murphy is a Delta, and I haven't given him a noogie yet this year. I'm way overdue."

*

When they get to the Delta party, Bellamy is already there, playing beer pong with a group of guys she doesn't know. He spots her and gives her a grin and a wave, holds up his hand like she should wait.

Which he probably does to a different girl every year, so she's not reading anything into it. She smiles and jerks her head toward the keg, which he seems to get.

She and Luna grab drinks and then Luna disappears to find people, while Clarke promises to stay in the general area of the beer pong. It's kind of sweet, Luna's vaguely protective streak at war with her desire to mingle.

Bellamy wins his game and fist-bumps his partner, and then begs out of taking on the next comers to jeers of disappointment. 

They turn into cat calls when he finds her, and he gives the room at large the finger before he turns his attention to her.

"Hey."

Her smile is inevitable. "Hi. Congratulations."

"Yeah, me and Miller are the best." He casts around for his partner and finds him trying to make his way through the crowd, hooks his arm around the guy's neck and tugs him in. "Hey, this is Clarke. She's pledging Sig-Kap."

Miller looks her up and down, and Clarke does the same to him once he's done with her. He's attractive, neatly trimmed facial hair and dark eyes, and his expression when he looks at Bellamy is kind of fondly exasperated.

He seems cool, in a limited sense.

"Hi, Clarke. You know you can impress people playing drinking games, right?" he adds to Bellamy. "You don't have to stop doing it when they show up."

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "No. Tell me more about how smooth you are."

"Shut up," says Miller, and Bellamy claps him on the back before he goes.

And then it's just the two of them, and Clarke doesn't know what to say. It's weird, right? That she keeps seeking out this guy she never has anything to say to. She doesn't even really think she's going to get laid.

She just likes him.

"How old is your sister?" she ends up asking.

"Sixteen."

That's weird too, that she's closer in age to his sister than to him. Another reason she isn't going to get laid. She can start a collection.

"And you guys--" She tries to figure out how to ask, if she should act like she doesn't know he's not a student here or what. It feels rude to know things about him that he hasn't told her. "I assume she doesn't live in the Delta Nu house," she finally says, and Bellamy ducks his head, laughing.

"Definitely not. It's, uh--it's just her and me." He considers her. "Don't tell me no one in your sorority warned you about me." She winces, and he smiles, bumps his shoulder against hers. "You can just tell me what you know. It saves me some trouble."

"You don't go here and you don't date college girls," she tells him. "So I shouldn't bother. No one talked about your sister at all. Which is why I'm asking you."

He laughs again. He looks like such a _dork_ when he laughs, in the best possible way. Clarke kind of loves it.

"Yeah, we live a few blocks off campus. My mom worked in dining services, so I grew up hanging around college kids." He shrugs. "When Miller came here after high school, I wasn't going to just stop hanging out with him, so--I'm kind of an honorary Delta. At least through the end of this year."

"What happens at the end of this year?"

"Miller graduates, Murphy stages a coup and becomes the new president and kicks me out."

"As long as you have a plan," she says, and he smiles. "What do you do? When you're not an honorary Delta."

"Uh, dining services, actually. I accidentally tricked some girls from Tau into thinking I was on work study one time, but I'm a civilian. The supervisor liked my mom, so he hired me when she died. And I have some part-time stuff too. Whatever I can, mostly."

"When did your mom die?" she asks, and immediately flushes. "Unless that's weird."

"A little," he teases. "Mostly because we're in the middle of a frat party. You want to take a walk?"

Friendship. Friendship is something she can get. And something she wants. She drains her beer and casts around for a trash can, but there isn't one. Bellamy takes it and puts it on a table.

"It's going to be a wreck no matter what," he says, and she smiles.

"As an honorary Delta, do you not have to help clean up?"

"Nope. It's the best." He holds the door open for her, and she goes back out into the night. It's already quieter outside, and cooler, and Clarke feels better instantly. She doesn't _dislike_ parties, but she doesn't love them either. And she wasn't completely in the mood for one tonight.

Mostly, she wanted to see Bellamy, and here he is.

She at least remembers to text Luna-- _taking a walk with Bellamy, lmk if you're leaving_ \--so she won't be worried, but most of her focus is on him. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and the wind is tousling his already messy hair. He does feel older than she does, but--Clarke feels older than herself sometimes, too. He doesn't feel out of reach. Not really.

"You don't have to tell me about your mom," she offers. "I was just curious. I was fifteen when my dad died, so--"

"Nothing says _fun party activity_ like dead parent stories," he teases. But he really does seem kind of pleased about it. "I was a senior in high school. Already eighteen, so that was lucky. We don't really have any other family, so I got O without anyone fighting me for her."

"What about your dad?"

"Never in the picture. O's was for a while, but he left, and then he got killed in a car accident when I was--I don't know, twelve? It didn't matter much, except that monthly child support turned into a lump sum. That's O's college fund."

"What about you?"

"I might try for trade school," he says, not looking at her. "Or maybe community college, once O's set. I don't know. I don't want to work here forever, the pay sucks and it's boring."

It doesn't seem like a subject he likes, so she asks, "Which dining hall do you work in?" 

"Mech," he says. "Wednesday to Sunday."

Clarke winces. "That sounds like a shitty schedule."

"I get time-and-a-half on Sundays. And it's morning and lunch, so I'm free for parties after. Plus I have Monday and Tuesday to run errands and stuff. It's not--" He looks down. "I'm not going to say I'm happy about it. But I'm going to be fine. And O's going to be good, so--" Self-consciousness takes over fully, and he gives her a sheepish grin. "Yeah, uh--that's me. Tell me about how your dad died so I don't feel like I was oversharing."

She has to laugh. "Smooth. I did _ask_."

"Well, now I'm asking. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's not much of a story. He got sick, and he died. It was really hard, but--nothing big or dramatic. My mom's still alive and I don't have any younger siblings, so it didn't--" She has to laugh. "Of course it upended my whole life, but it wasn't like what happened to you."

"Hey, don't be jealous just because my life is shittier than yours. It's not a competition."

This laugh is more genuine. "But if it was, you'd be winning."

"I don't like to brag."

She shakes her head, smiling. "So--why do you come to frat parties?"

"I don't have to pay for booze and I can pretend I have a social life." He shrugs. "Like I said, once Miller graduates I'll have to figure out something else to do with myself. But until then, I can be the creepy older guy the sororities warn their pledges about."

"That's not what they were warning me about," Clarke says, and immediately wishes she hadn't.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? What do they warn you about?"

She thinks it over and settles on, "That you don't date sorority girls."

"Yeah, that's true. And probably that I'm poor and even if I did date sorority girls, you should stay away, right?"

"Not in so many words. She was embarrassed, so she kind of talked around that."

"But you're still here."

She can't quite read his tone, but it's not like he's wrong. She _is_ still here. "Sorry, are you only good for sex or something?"

That gets another laugh out of him. "Well, I _am_ pretty good for sex," he teases, and she's glad it's too dark for him to see her flush. "But I guess if you just want to talk about dead parents and other scarring experiences, we could do that instead."

"Hey, I could have sex with anyone, right? No one else wants to talk about their dead parents. You're the only one."

"As long as I'm providing a valuable service." He wets his lips. "Want to go back to the party?"

"Or we could keep walking."

"Yeah," he agrees. "We could do that."

*

"You guys were gone for a while," Luna says, all smirking insinuation, as they're walking home from the party. "I hope he took you somewhere fun."

Clarke really has no idea how to respond to that. He _did_ take her somewhere fun, but not like Luna is thinking. They went to a playground a few blocks off campus and sat on the swings and chatted about their lives until they got too cold. She didn't get laid, and she doesn't think she ever will get laid.

So she says, "It's not really like that. We're friends."

"Friends?" asks Luna.

"He's a good guy."

Luna looks a little wary, as if she thinks Clarke is lying to her, but she _isn't_. Even if he seems like he'd make a pretty decent boyfriend, it's clear that's not in the cards, and that's fine too. He still seems like a good guy to have in her corner.

"He seems to be," Luna agrees. "I wouldn't tell the rest of the sorority, if I were you."

"Because they're snobs?"

"And at least a few of them did try to make it work with him. I know you're not trying that, but--they might be strange about it."

"Because you're being so normal," Clarke teases, but there's no edge to it. "I have a friend. I don't see what the problem is."

To her surprise, Luna sobers. "Do you know Echo?"

Clarke thinks about it. "Anya's friend? From--"

"Alpha Zeta Gamma," Luna supplies. "She was very interested in Bellamy sophomore year. She had a bet going with one of the Thetas about winning him over. I don't think she's ever forgiven him for not being interested."

"That's shitty. And it has nothing to do with me."

"The intersection of pride and heartbreak is complicated," says Luna, because, every now and then, she basically just sounds like a fortune cookie. "But it's more--no one tries to do anything with Bellamy but fuck him once or twice now."

"You can hear what you're saying, right?" 

"I can," says Luna, with a wry smile. "I'd never thought about how bullshit it was, but--I've never had a little trying to make friends with him. I never needed to care about him much. I'm not telling you to stop, just to expect--people are strange about Bellamy."

"Obviously." She shrugs. "I'm just going to hang out with him when I see him at parties. It's really not a big deal."

Luna doesn't look totally convinced, but she nods. "Well, I'm glad you made a friend. I'll do my best to make sure no one bothers you about him."

As far as Clarke's concerned, it's no one's business but hers and no one has any right to be an asshole about it, but if they're going to be assholes anyway, at least Luna is on her side. Because she's not interested in losing someone she likes over weird sorority politics, and she likes Bellamy more than she likes some anonymous girls who are upset he didn't want to date them.

"Thanks," she says. "I don't think it's going to be a big deal."

*

The problem is, she knows too much about Bellamy, now. Parties were fine, but she knows his schedule at the dining hall, and she can't stop knowing that. Every meal, Wednesday to Sunday, Clarke can't help thinking of going to Mech, even though most of the time she's nowhere near there. And it would be weird if she suddenly started showing up all the time, or if she brought any of her sorority sisters there for preference.

So she lets herself go for lunch on Wednesday and Friday, when her class brings her to the general Mech area, and she goes a little late, so she can chat with Bellamy at the register without holding up the line. And he looks happy to see her every time, gives her a broad smile and asks how classes are going, and Clarke asks after his sister and about his other jobs.

On Tuesdays, she starts going to the coffee shop regularly too. He works there in the mornings and then hangs out until his sister is done with school, so Clarke joins him. He steals her textbooks when she isn't using them and reads them, asks her questions about biases and professors, as curious about the classes themselves as the content of the texts. Which turns into him helping her study for tests, and her giving him the tests after she gets them back in exchange, so he can study them and see what questions were asked and give them a try himself. It's the oddest friendship she's ever had, but by mid-November, it's also far and away her closest. Even more than her sorority sisters and other friends, she feels comfortable with Bellamy as someone she can talk to and trust.

Which is why she finally just asks him, "Did you know the Alphas think I'm bogarting you?"

They're at the coffee shop, and he's reading her anatomy book with a vaguely disgusted expression that he transfers to her as soon as he looks up. "Bogarting?"

"From Humphrey Bogart, it's--"

"I know what bogarting _is_. But I've never heard anyone actually say it."

"There's no replacement for the right word, Bellamy," she says, prim, and he snorts.

"And the right word is bogarting?"

" _Hogging_ doesn't have the same ring to it. You're apparently a rite of passage, but now you're hanging out with me instead of teaching innocent young girls what good oral feels like."

She doesn't think she blushes when she says it--she practiced to make sure she wouldn't--but she still feels nervous about the statement. It _is_ what she's heard, in terms of his reputation (excellent lay, will definitely eat you out), but it's weird telling him that.

But he should probably know.

He just laughs, showing no signs of embarrassment or irritation. "Wow. Does it sound that creepy when they say it? I've hooked up with a few freshmen, you guys aren't _that_ young."

"You told me I was underage the first time we met."

"To drink, not to--" He clears his throat and looks away. "Anyway, it's not about you. Are none of you guys into statistics? Correlation does not equal causation."

"So, you're hooking up less and it has nothing to do with me?"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Yeah, you're breaking my heart." She nudges his ankle with her foot under the table. "So, what happened?"

"Nothing happened. Not like you're talking about."

"I'm not talking about anything, you brought it up. Don't act like this is on me."

"You brought it up. You're the one telling me about my failures to hook up with freshman girls."

"I figured you'd be interested to find out that you're a hot commodity and I'm being selfish and trying to keep you to myself. Why don't you hook up anymore?"

"Because sex is fine, but I don't really care about having that much of it. And my sister called me out for telling her that she needed to be careful about sex when I was getting laid all the time. And she was right. I was a hypocrite."

"So you stopped having sex to try to keep your sister from having sex?"

"I gave up on hookups. And, honestly, I don't miss them. They were fun when they were happening, but kind of sucked after." His mouth twists. "Probably because I was a rite of passage, not a person."

She winces. "Sorry."

"You didn't do anything. And it's not like I didn't kind of know."

"You could just date," she points out.

"I could." He shrugs. "I'm not against just dating. But it's a lot more work."

"I wouldn't know."

He cocks his head. "About the dating or the hookups?"

"The hookups. And the dating," she adds, after a moment of thought. "I had a boyfriend in high school, but it wasn't really much work. We went to a few things together, he drooled on my face and called it kissing, and then broke up with me because I didn't put out. Which I would have, if I thought he knew what he was doing."

"Yeah, the kissing doesn't really instill confidence." He drums his fingers on the table, looking away. "So you're not, uh--I figured you just didn't hook up at Delta parties."

"No, I don't hook up anywhere." She worries her lip. "I think a Theta is flirting with me."

"Cool," he says. She cocks her head, and he smiles. "Miller's my best friend, Clarke. Even if you don't know I'm pansexual, you should at least know I'm not homophobic."

It doesn't exactly make her feel better. "I don't know what I am."

He nods. "So tell me about the girl."

"There really isn't much to tell. Her name is Niylah, we usually hang out at Theta parties. I told her I was straight and she kind of--I don't think she believed me."

"Well, in her defense, you don't know what you are," he says, but his voice is warm. 

"I want to be--not straight," she admits. "And that makes me feel like I'm probably just trying too hard."

Bellamy thinks it over, his expression making her feel itchy. It feels like such an asshole thing to say, the classic rich-girl thing. She's so privileged, she wants to feel like she's got some kind of strife in her life. And Bellamy--well, he'd see right through that.

Finally, he says, "You want to come over for dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll let you underage drink and everything."

She has to smile. "What are you having?"

"Jesus, I'm trying to be nice. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I promise it's going to be better than the dining hall food."

"When you put it like that, I'd love to come over for dinner."

"Cool, let's go."

"What about Octavia?"

His neck turns a little red. "She's working on a project at a friend's house. Won't be home until late."

"So what were you doing here?" she asks, even though she knows. She wants to hear him say it.

"Hanging out with you," he says, defiant.

"You're going to cook me _dinner_."

"Maybe I'm going to order takeout and pretend I made it."

"Still better than the dining hall." She stows her books in her bag and hoists it on her shoulder. "But I get to see your house, so--"

He shakes his head. "It's really not that exciting."

"I'm curious anyway."

"Well, it's this way," he says, holding the coffee shop door open for her as they leave. "Not far, just about ten minutes. Do you need to tell someone you're not going back to the house?"

"I was just about to. You don't have to mother-hen me."

"Just because you're already a mother hen," he says. She scowls at him, and his grin only grows. "It's nice. One less person for me to worry about."

"One _fewer_ ," she mutters, and he laughs.

She texts Harper that she's having dinner with a friend, which is one of those true things that feels like a lie, but any time she tells Harper she's hanging out with Bellamy, she acts like it's a huge deal. Like Clarke can't just be friends with him. And then she feels guilty, because--she _is_ friends with him. And she's happy.

But if he ever told her he wanted to have sex, she'd probably agree, even with the prickling awareness that it would probably break her heart. Even if it would probably make her sadder than his never being interested.

What she really wants is impossible, but she wants what she gets plenty. She's one of his best friends, and that's better than hooking up with him. 

It's just worse than dating him. 

"It's not going to be as nice as the sorority house," he says, to her surprise.

"What?"

"My house."

"It's not as nice as a sorority house?"

"I know Greek housing gets a bad rap, but you guys are rich. Just because it's a dump doesn't mean it's not nice." He pauses. "And, not to stereotype based on gender, but I assume you guys are cleaner than the frat."

"That's less about gender and more personality. Anya runs a way tighter ship than Miller."

"Yeah, that's true. Anyway, uh--I don't think you're going to be a dick. So don't let me down."

She has to smile. "I'll try not to."

"I know it's hard to resist."

It's not hard to understand his tension. Being at college is like living in a bubble, and while she'll go to the commercial parts of the rest of the town sometimes, the residential parts are a great unknown. Bellamy leads her from the closer, more affluent houses to the poorer neighborhood. It's not a slum, by any means, but the difference is obvious, apparent as they go. Bellamy doesn't live in a nice part of town.

"So, that was faculty houses?" she asks.

"Mostly, yeah. It's not like everyone works for the university, but--yeah. People with good jobs."

"And this is the working class."

"Yeah." He glances at her, but her expression must reassure him. "I'm pretty lucky. The house was my grandmother's, and then my mother's, so by the time I got it, we were basically set, and it's nice to have a good excuse not to sell it. I don't think I could rent somewhere cheaper. I'll sell it when I'm ready to move."

"When?" she asks. "Not if?"

"When. I'm basically in a holding pattern until O goes to college."

"And then?"

"Then I know how much it's going to cost and how much I'll have left," he says. "Once I know that, I can figure out what I'm going to do."

It seems unfair to Clarke, so unfair it's like an open wound, this gaping chasm across the world. Bellamy shouldn't _have_ to do this, but he will, and will without complaint, because that's who he is. She wonders if she'd be able to give up years of her life for another person like that, so easily. 

She probably could, but it wouldn't be easy. Not that it's easy for Bellamy, but she's sure he didn't even think about it. It would be a decision for her, and it's not for him. There was no other option.

"What did you want to do before your mom died?” she asks.

"Go to college. I was going to be the first in my family, but now it'll be her."

"Are you jealous?"

To her surprise, he thinks about it. "Not exactly jealous. But--it was a big deal to me. It's not a big deal to her." He ducks his head, his smile sheepish. "She's not ungrateful or anything. It just doesn't matter to her as much."

"She's just your half sister, right?"

He does not look impressed. "And?"

"So you can be half the first person in your family to go to college."

His laugh is all happy surprise. "I guess when you put it like that. This is us."

The house looks a lot like the ones around it, taller than it is wide, paint peeling a little off the walls. Bellamy unlocks the door without comment, doesn't bother justifying any more than he already has. 

The inside feels more familiar, clean and warm, bookshelves everywhere. He's managed to make it feel cozy, not small, and the whole place smells like him.

"It's nice," she says, and he gives her a sharp look, then snorts.

"Sure it is. Take your shoes off."

They put their shoes by the door and he gives her a quick tour, showing her the bedrooms upstairs, the guest room that used to be his mother's, the living room, and then back to the kitchen, where he opens the fridge.

"Are you helping?"

"Helping?"

"With dinner."

"What are we having?"

"Tacos good?"

"Yeah."

"Then tacos. You can handle the vegetable prep."

It sounds simple enough, but Clarke's never really been much of a cook, and when the first tomato explodes, Bellamy just huffs and takes the knife.

"Okay, so, you can supervise this time."

The casual assumption that she'll be back warms her down to her toes, and she can't help grinning.

"I'm a great supervisor."

"Clearly. So, are you into guys?"

"What?"

"Your sexuality thing. You're into guys?"

"Yeah."

He nods. "So, straight, bisexual, pan. Your basic options."

"Yeah."

"So, pan works for me because--I don't really care about gender. If I'm into someone, I'm into them. Miller and I were at a party when we were in high school and we saw someone and he said he was into them if they were a guy, and I said they were hot either way."

"That's your entire coming out story?" she asks.

"Nah. That was just when we went for pan over bi. His ex was bi and he liked different things in guys and girls. I don't care, so I say I'm pan."

Clarke considers. "I've never had a crush on a girl."

"What about the girl who's flirting with you?"

"I don't really--I don't have a crush on her. She's pretty, but it's not like--"

"With guys," he supplies.

"Yeah."

"So, that could mean you're bi," he says. "Different attraction, whatever. You want to kiss a girl?"

"Which girl?" 

He laughs. "Whichever girl you want. Dealer's choice. Your favorite celebrity."

"I don't know," she says. "It's just always been--it's easy to like guys. I always just have. And then girls, it's--I wouldn't _mind_ kissing one, but it's not, like--"

"Breathe," says Bellamy, smiling. "This isn't a test, Clarke. There's no universally accepted scale for how interested you need to be in kissing girls to be bisexual."

"I know. But--who's totally opposed to kissing girls?"

"I guess it depends on what you mean by kissing," he says, sounding thoughtful. "Miller does drama, so he kisses girls on stage. And he's, like, the most affectionate drunk ever, Jesus Christ. He'll just kiss people out of general enthusiasm. But he has no interest in making out with girls at all." He nudges her shoulder. "I know it feels like there's some standard you have to pass, but from what I can tell, completely straight people don't want to make out with people of the same gender. It's pretty simple." 

"I know."

"Yeah, I really bought that." He considers her. "What if you just asked that Theta if she wanted to make out?"

"I'd feel like a jerk."

"You already told her you're straight. She already doesn't believe you. If you tell her you're wondering if you're bi, she might _offer_ to make out."

"And what if I don't like girls?"

"You're making out at a party, Clarke. If it doesn't work out, she'll probably be fine."

"So, you stopped hooking up, but you're trying to get me to do it?" she teases, mostly because she's feeling awkward about everything else.

"Well, you're working on your bisexuality," he says. "But if you just want to hook up, that's cool too. I did it and I'm done with it. You don't have to be."

"Has anyone ever told you that you sometimes sound like a PSA? But, like--not one that parents would like."

"Fine, I'll stop helping. You want to set the table? Placemats are in the second drawer by the fridge."

" _Placemats_?"

"What?"

"You're really going all out."

"I'm a good host, shut up."

"You are. I'm really impressed."

"Don't say I don't treat you right." 

He doesn't bring up the bisexuality thing again until they're on their way back to campus. They chat about classes and jobs and all the usual things they chat about, and she assumes he's just done with everything else. The conversation seemed over.

Of course, he offers to walk her home, and she thinks about protesting for about ten seconds, and then she remembers whom she's talking to. "There's no way you're letting me go back alone, is there?"

"Not even a little."

"This whole thing seems like a huge pain for you," she points out. "You have to cook for me, you have to talk me through all my college crises, you have to walk me home--"

"Yeah, it's almost like we're friends or something," he says, holding the door open for her. "It's not like I was looking forward to eating dinner alone and being bored all night."

"So, I'm doing a public service."

"You really helped me out, yeah." He clears his throat. "Look, I, uh--I know I made kind of a big deal of talking about the bi thing, but honestly, don't worry about it if you don't want to. It can take a while, and there's honestly no pressure."

"Do you just want to be the entire world's big brother?" she asks.

"Definitely not," he says, and then huffs. "Fine, I'll shut up about it. But if you want to talk, now you know where I live."

"I do know where you live."

He's quiet again, but the protective instincts can't be held back for long. Once they hit Greek Row, he says, "I mean it, though. You're always welcome, if--anything. If anything happens, you can come to me."

"I know." She smiles. "Same for you. If you need anything, I'm around. I even have a cell phone, because I don't require people to show up at my door like tortured Jane-Austen protagonists."

He snorts. "Fine. The offer stands even if you're an asshole."

It feels like there should be something _more_ to the goodbye. A hug or a handshake or a kiss on the cheek. _Something_. But doing any of those things seems way more awkward than not doing anything, so she just nods.

"Thanks for walking me home. And making me dinner. And giving me a weird pep talk."

"Those are basically my specialties, yeah."

"I really do appreciate it, though. All of it. I'll keep you posted."

"Yeah, if you make out with any girls I definitely want to know about it," he teases, and she rolls her eyes.

"Good night, Bellamy."

"Night."

Harper's stretched out on her bed reading when Clarke makes it back, and she gives her a sly smile. "You were out late. Must have been some _dinner with a friend_."

Clarke shakes her head, pulling out her laptop and getting settled in with her own work. "That's exactly what it was, yeah." Everything else aside, she's pretty sure people who want to date you don't give you pep talks about making out with other people. "An awesome dinner with a friend."

Harper huffs. "Fine. Don't tell me."

"Nothing to tell," she says. "But if I ever get anything, I'll keep you posted."

*

 **Me** : You're not at this delta nu party

 **Bellamy** : Thanks for telling me  
I hadn't noticed

 **Me** : WHY aren't you at this delta by party  
Delta by  
Delta NU

 **Bellamy** : Wow

 **Me** : Why aren't there Greek letter emoji  
Where are you

 **Bellamy** : At home  
It's O's birthday, I'm chaperoning

 **Me** : It's her birthday?  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY OCTAVIA!!!!  
What's the party??

 **Bellamy** : Sleepover  
Honestly I'd rather be at a frat party  
But I'm not leaving five seventeen year old girls alone in my house

 **Me** : Omg  
Do all of her friends have a crush on you??  
I bet they do  
You're totally Octavia's hot older brother  
Is that what it's like being you all the time?  
Everywhere you go you're just the hot one

 **Bellamy** : However much water you're drinking, it's not enough

 **Me** : Water doesn't actually cure drunkenness, Bellamy  
It just makes the hangover better

 **Bellamy** : I'm still texting Miller to keep an eye on you

 **Me** : I miss you  
But I get that you can't leave  
Have fun with the teenage girls

 **Bellamy** : Let Miller walk you home if no one else is

 **Me** : Love you too, dork

*

Delta Nu parties without Bellamy are very disappointing. Not that she dislikes any of the Deltas, but, well, she doesn't actually like _parties_ that much. They're fine, but without Bellamy around, there isn't much to do besides drink. And drinking is fine, but it's not as fun as just having friends.

A friend.

It's not as fun as _Bellamy_.

Miller finds her within twenty seconds, because Bellamy is That Guy, and Miller is That Friend, and he gives her a once over.

"I just need to tell Bellamy you're not going to drown in a pool of your own vomit."

"That specifically?" she asks, frowning a little.

"Yeah, you gotta be really specific. I'll tell him that, he'll ask if you're going to die any other ways, and then I'll ignore my phone for twenty minutes until he calls me freaking out."

"You're a good friend," Clarke says, grave, and he shrugs one shoulder.

"I try." His eyes flick up and down, assessing her. "You seem pretty okay."

"I'm a lot drunker when I text. I'm all about the written word vomit."

"Whatever floats your boat." He rubs the back of his neck. "If you don't have someone to take you home, find me, okay? I know you think you don't need it, but--"

"But he'll worry. I get it. I basically understand how Bellamy works by now."

Miller gives her a look she can't quite read. "Cool. Check in when you're leaving either way. I'll be at the pool table."

It's as good a reason as any to find the people she came with and try to figure out what their actual plan for the night is. Last she saw, Luna was playing some weird flip-cup game with Murphy, whom Clarke still has never actually spoken to and just knows by the weirdest reputation ever, and Harper was making out with some kid she didn't recognize, so she figures she might as well start where Luna was and go from there.

Which is when she runs into Niylah.

It's her first time seeing the other girl since her conversation with Bellamy, and she feels a kind of odd guilt about it now, for talking about her in abstract terms.

And some additional guilt, because she kind of _does_ want to make out. Making out sounds awesome right now.

"Clarke," she says, smiling. 

"Hey."

"Where are you headed?"

The response is easy. "Wherever you're heading."

"Keg."

Clarke considers, but she's definitely drunk enough, and should not drink any more if she's actually going to make consent decisions tonight. Which she might not, but she'd like the option, and she'd like to feel like she's in control.

"I'm done drinking, but I'll walk you."

"I appreciate the escort."

"I was talking to my friend," she finds herself saying. "About bisexuality."

"Oh?"

"And pansexuality, yeah. He's pan."

Niylah nods, getting her beer and taking a sip. "I'm gay, for the record."

"I figured, yeah."

"And you?"

"I honestly don't know," she admits. "I like guys. That's never been an issue."

"That does complicate things. It's easy to just stick with the default option."

"That's not what I'm doing," Clarke protests. "I'm trying to not be an _asshole_."

The hurt in her voice clearly startles Niylah, and Clarke feels a little better. Not that she wants to guilt-trip her, but it _is_ kind of a jerk thing to say to someone.

"I'm sorry," says Niylah. "I know it's difficult. And I know it doesn't help when people like me act like--I have been. I assume your pansexual friend was more helpful."

"He thinks I should make out with you."

"Not with him?"

"I already know I'm attracted to him," she says, without thinking, and scrambles to add, "My issue isn't attraction to guys, remember?"

"But you're not sure if you're attracted to me," she says, smirking. 

"I'm not sure if it's enough," Clarke admits, and Niylah takes her hand and tugs her through the house, finding a relatively empty hallway.

She puts her beer on a table, looks Clarke up and down, and Clarke is somehow still not quite ready for the kiss. Even though she knew it was coming, it feels like an electric shock, that first contact. 

She's _kissing a girl_.

It's not as if she has that much experience kissing anyone, male or female. There were a few boys at parties, her boyfriend, and that's it. She doesn't think of herself as either skilled or knowledgeable, but she also just doesn't think kissing is very _hard_. Niylah takes the lead, and Clarke can just go along with it, letting her mouth move against hers, while the rest of her mind thinks about it critically. It is _different_ from kissing a boy: Niylah's mouth is softer, with a slightly artificial tang of lip gloss, and her skin is smooth. She's the same height as Clarke, which won't always be the case with girls, and when Clarke moves closer, breasts get involved, and that's--

That's about when her brain finally stops overthinking everything, and she relaxes into just enjoying herself. It's a good kiss, hot and wet, with Niylah's hands tracing up her back, pulling her close. It's been a long time since she did this, and she does like it, when it's good. And this is _so_ good.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, startling her, and Niylah laughs against her mouth.

"Popular?" she teases. It's practically a _purr_.

"Probably just my best friend." The words come out so easily, she doesn't even think about it until she's said them. It's the first time she's ever called Bellamy that, and it feels almost as staggering as making out with a girl. "He's worried I'm too drunk."

A smile is playing on Niylah's lips, and Clarke would really like to still be making out. "Are you?"

"No." She worries her lip. "What do you want?"

The smile grows. "I think that's my line."

"He's going to want to know how I'm getting home. Am I going home?"

Niylah sobers, considers Clarke. "I don't do relationships. Nothing to do with you, but I'm aromantic. I like kissing, I like touching, I like sex. But if you're looking for a girlfriend, I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"I'm not," she says, on autopilot. It's true, but it feels like something she should think about more. Why _shouldn't_ she want a girlfriend? A girlfriend might be nice.

"You're welcome to come home with me," says Niylah. "And we can have as much fun as you'd like."

Clarke checks her phone, sees Bellamy has texted, _Miller says he's 75% sure you're going to survive the night_. The bloom of warmth she feels at the sight of his name makes her feel a little guilty, but Niylah isn't offering anything but sex. Niylah doesn't _want_ romance. She's not interested in that.

No one involved is being an asshole. Everyone is on the same page.

 **Me** : Making out with a girl  
I think she's taking me home

 **Bellamy** : Awesome  
Have fun, be safe  
Text me in the morning so I know you're not dead

 **Me** : When's the sleepover done?

 **Bellamy** : It will never end  
It's going to last forever  
Nations will rise and fall before this is over

 **Me** : So like noon?

 **Bellamy** : 9:30 or 10  
They're getting breakfast and then going to a matinee  
So late enough I had to take the day off work  
But not that late

 **Me** : Cool  
I'll bring you coffee

Niylah is watching her, one eyebrow cocked, and Clarke smiles. "Just texting people so they know not to wait up. You want to get out of here?"

She returns the smile. "Love to."

*

She doesn't actually stay the night at Niylah's--it feels too formal--but by the time she's going home, she's sobered up, and it's only a block from the Theta house to Sig-Kap. 

It's a nice night, chilly and bright, and Clarke feels like the whole world is changed a little. Her virginity wasn't something that bothered her, wasn't anything that she was in a rush to get rid of. And she doesn't feel more complete or valid, now that she's been naked with someone, now that she knows what it's like for someone to make her come, and to return the favor.

But she does feel a little different. And she feels--well, it was easy to be nervous that she'd be _bad_ in bed, and she seems to have done pretty well. It wasn't even difficult. Instinctual, even.

Fun.

She sets her alarm for 9:30 and stops by the coffee shop where Bellamy works to pick up drinks and muffins once she's showered. Her hangover is non-existent, and it's Thanksgiving next week, so she's coming up on a break.

It feels like the start of a jgood day.

Bellamy opens the door with two days of stubble, squinting and glaring like he's mad at the whole world, with his glasses halfway down his nose. But his face clears at the sight of her, and she feels her own heart turn over.

Bisexual, for sure. She'd love to just pull him down and kiss him.

"I brought coffee," she says instead. "As promised. And pastries. You look more hungover than I do."

"Teenage girls are _loud_ , Clarke."

"I'm a teenage girl," she points out.

"You're basically thirty," he says, stepping out of the way so she can come in. "And you don't hang out in my house squealing in the middle of the night."

"I could start if you want."

"Tempting." He looks her up and down. "Seriously, what are you doing here? Did you just want to brag about how you got laid?"

"I'm going to the airport right after class on Tuesday, so if I didn't see you this weekend, I wasn't going to until after the break. So here I am. With muffins."

He ducks his head, smiling with half his mouth. "I forgot you were leaving soon. Isn't it just like a week?"

"I still wanted to say goodbye before I left. Are you busy?"

"They called to see if I could do the afternoon shift, so I’m going in to work at two," he says. "But nothing until then. I just figured you had better things to do this morning than hang out with me. Like get laid," he adds, with a teasing grin.

"You're trying to gossip, you don't get to make fun of teenage girls."

"Not gossiping. Just checking in."

"Uh huh." She puts her feet up on his coffee table. "I feel comfortable identifying as bisexual now."

"Congrats. Are you going to see her again?"

"We go to the same college, Bellamy." He kicks her ankle, and she hands him a muffin. "We're not going to date. She's aro, so looking for a relationship even less than you are."

"I never said I'm not looking for a relationship," he protests. "I'm just not looking very hard."

"Well, she's not. So I can get laid if I want, but, yeah. Not a girlfriend."

"Is that okay?"

She kicks his ankle again. "Stop _worrying_. It's fine. I didn't want to date her. If she was looking for a relationship, I wouldn't have hooked up with her."

"No?"

"She's cool, but--no romantic feelings. It happens, right?"

"It happens." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Are we actually hanging out at my house? You know we don't have anything to do here, right?"

"I bet there's a shitty movie on that we can make fun of," Clarke offers. "It's Sunday. There's always a shitty movie on."

"We do get Lifetime," he says, and finds the remote. "We can figure out something."

*

 **Me** : Should I tell my mom I'm bisexual?

 **Bellamy** : Do you want to?

 **Me** : I feel like I should

 **Bellamy** : Not what I asked  
If you want to, do it  
If you just think you should, don't worry about it  
Or do, I don't know  
If you think you'll feel better, do it  
If you don't, don't  
But guilt isn't a good motivating factor

 **Me** : I don't think she'd be an asshole about it

 **Bellamy** : That's good  
Fuck, I don't know, it's your life  
My mom was dead before I figured oI was pan  
And my sister doesn't give a shit  
I don't really know what to do with parents, honestly

 **Me** : Sorry  
I didn't think of that

 **Bellamy** : I don't mind  
But no practical experience here  
There's no right or wrong answer, Clarke

 **Me** : If you tell me to follow my heart, I'm going to laugh at you

 **Bellamy** : Believe in yourself

 **Me** : Much better  
Happy Thanksgiving

 **Bellamy** : Happy Thanksgiving

*

Clarke doesn't end up telling her mother she's bisexual at Thanksgiving; she's not sure she's ready yet, and she'll be home in another month for Christmas. It's not as if this is her one and only chance to come out.

Instead, she has a nice, laid back break, and returns to school in high spirits. Her first semester is almost over, and she feels as if she's doing fairly well with the whole thing. Her classes are going well, she's fitting in with her sorority, she has a decent number of friends, and she's figured out her sexuality. It's a much better state than she thought she'd be in, when she fretted about college.

So it makes sense that this is when the Bellamy thing comes home to roost.

She hasn't even been back on campus for ten minutes when it happens; she's heading up to her room when she passes Anya's door, and she says, "Griffin, we need to talk."

Anya is one of those people whose voice never gives away her mood. It's like talking to Captain Holt, but angry instead of deadpan.

"Sure," says Clarke. "Can I drop off my bag first?"

"Go ahead."

Clarke does a quick mental review of things she could have done to make Anya upset with her and comes up blank. Her grades are good, she's in good standing in the sorority. Bellamy crosses her mind as an explanation, but she dismisses the idea out of hand. She's been friends with him for months, at this point. Other freshmen have accused her of bogarting him. If Anya was going to be upset about it, it feels as if it should have happened months ago.

So she's at a loss.

When she goes back to Anya's room, Anya nods for her to close the door, which is another pretty dire sign. It's definitely serious.

"Have a seat," she says, and Clarke sits. 

The nice thing about Anya is that she never beats around the bush. She's direct and to the point, always.

"Bellamy Blake," she says.

Clarke doesn't let herself react. "What about him?"

"I told you that you could do better."

"You did. I wasn't aware that was a sign I couldn't talk to him."

"Talk to him," Anya repeats. "Is that what you're doing?"

"It is. He's--" It's hard for her to read the situation, hard to be sure what the actual _issue_ is. She's not sleeping with him. But if Anya is still defending her friend's bruised ego, then this might be worse than dating him. From what she's heard, sleeping with Bellamy isn't much of an issue. But she has a level of intimacy with him that's beyond what anyone else seems to have achieved. And maybe that's a problem.

"He's my friend," she says.

"Your friend," Anya repeats.

"Is that a problem?" 

She keeps her voice even, but it's with an effort. Anya's never spoken to her about this, aside from her cryptic first comment about him. Everything else has been rumor, hearsay, but now here she is, called into the office like a naughty kid because--what? Her best friend turned down one of Anya's friends two years ago?

"There is a standard of conduct in this association."

"I've read it. How am I breaking it?"

Anya's jaw works, and Clarke realizes with a sinking feeling that this isn't about someone's wounded pride.

This is about the first thing Luna ever warned her about. This is about money, and class. This is about Bellamy being fucking _poor_.

"Associations are important, Clarke. Sororities are in large part about your network. Outside of your sisters, what does yours look like? Your closest friend is a retail worker who doesn't even attend the school."

"You're disciplining me for bad networking?"

I think your priorities are in need of realignment," says Anya. "You're spending more and more time away from the house, and you favor Delta Nu parties over any others, including those held by fraternities we're associated with."

"So make that the issue," Clarke says, crossing her arms. "Can my realigned priorities involve Bellamy?"

"If you see Bellamy Blake as a part of your future, that's a problem." Her voice is so _smooth_ , so even. Cool and matter-of-fact. "And if you consider him more important than your place in this sorority--"

It's nice sometimes, that her temper tends to run cold rather than hot. "I didn't think it was a competition."

"I'm not saying it is. But it's worth thinking about. If it were, what would you choose?"

"That seems like a really stupid thought experiment."

Anya shrugs one shoulder. "It's not a decision you have to make now. But it might be, someday. Good luck with finals," she adds, a dismissal, and Clarke leaves before she does anything she can't take back.

Her first impulse is, of course, to tell Bellamy, but she doesn't really _want_ to tell him. He already knows college kids are assholes about him; he doesn't need to hear they're doing it more, and harder, in her general direction.

But she definitely needs to talk to someone.

Luna isn't back yet, and Harper doesn't seem like she'd have much insight, so she grabs her laptop and flask and heads to the science library. It's true that she doesn't have a ton of friends outside of Bellamy and her sorority, but she does have a few, and one of them is Raven Reyes, who basically lives in a second-floor library carrel when she's not in class.

And, as expected, there she is, watching anime on her laptop with Monty Green and Jasper Jordan.

Clarke sits down next to her in a huff, and Raven pulls her headphones out. "You look pretty pissed for someone who just got off vacation."

"You want to go somewhere and underage drink with me?"

"It's two pm," says Raven. "Not that I'm saying no," she adds. "Just an observation."

"I know."

"Cool. Guys, if you steal my computer, they'll never find your bodies."

"Understood," says Monty.

"Tell us if you need help drinking," Jasper adds, with a weird salute.

Raven has a double with a roommate who basically lives with her boyfriend, so it's basically always empty. Raven knocks, just to be polite, but as expected it's empty, and she flops down onto her bed.

"What's wrong?"

Clarke sits down on the corner of the bed and takes a swig from her flask. "I know this isn't going to surprise you, but I'm having sorority issues."

Raven is pretty vocally opposed to Greek life, so she just rolls her eyes and holds her hand out until Clarke hands over the flask. "Yeah, that's, like, the opposite of shocking. What happened?"

"Do you know Bellamy Blake?"

"The hot guy who's always flirting with you at Delta parties? Yeah, I've noticed him."

"He doesn't go here."

"Okay."

"And he's poor and people are assholes about it, and my fucking--I just got the sorority equivalent of _called into the principal's office_ to get lectured about how he's beneath me and I should be associating with better people and--" She rubs her face. "She asked what I'd do if I had to pick between him and the sorority. Not like I actually have to do it, but if I did And that's fucked up, right? That's _so_ fucked up."

"The entire Greek life system is fucked up," Raven says, automatic. "But yeah, that's extra fucked. They get to approve your boyfriends now?"

"He's not my boyfriend," says Clarke. "Not that it would be better if he _was_ , but--they're not even auditing my dates, just my friends. Like if he doesn't benefit me financially he's not worth hanging out with or something."

"So what did you tell them?"

"What?"

"Would you ditch him?"

She pauses, pulls a face. "No. Of course not. I wouldn't ditch _anyone_ for them. Not unless they were an asshole or something. But I'm not losing my best friend because some rich girls think he's not good enough."

"Yeah," says Raven. "So--you better have a plan for if they force the issue. People don't say shit like that if they aren't thinking about making you actually pick."

"I know." She reclaims the flask and takes a long swig. "I thought I found a good sorority, you know? Like--the cool one. They seemed cool."

"It's like you've never seen a movie. Rich girls falling for poor guys always ends in bad shit and grossness."

It reminds her of Bellamy asking her about girl movies about Greek life the first time she met him, and she smiles. And then the rest of Raven's sentence catches up with her. "You know we're not actually dating, right? I keep telling you."

"Yeah, I'm ignoring that because it's stupid. You told him about this yet?"

"No. It'll just make him feel shitty. He already knows Greek row is full of stuck-up assholes. It's not news."

"It's gonna be news if you quit your sorority for him."

"It's not _for_ him. I'd quit for you too. Or--it's fucked up. It's not about Bellamy."

"Yeah. See what he says when you tell him."

"Maybe I won't have to," she says, but she doesn't really believe it.

And, of course, right on cue, her phone buzzes with a text from him, asking if she's back yet. He must have just finished work, and she's not even that drunk.

She missed him; the text probably means he missed her too.

"Are you going to be offended if I leave to go hang out with him?" she asks Raven.

Raven rolls her eyes. "I'd be less offended if you were going to make out with him while you're at it. But I get that you've got some hangups, so--yeah, go for it. I've got anime waiting in the library."

"Thanks for helping me through my sorority crisis."

Raven shrugs, smiling. "Hey, you did give me booze."

*

Part of her knows she should tell him about the thing with Anya, but by the time she gets to his house, she's just happy to see him. It's only been a week, and she wouldn't have seen him that much during it anyway, but--it _feels_ like a long time. So she'd much rather hang out than complain about how she might get kicked out of her sorority.

Besides, she hasn't even talked to Luna yet. Luna's got to have a better idea of what her consequences look like.

Her door's open when Clarke goes by, and as soon as she sees Clarke, her guilt is written all over her face. So Luna knew, and Luna's probably been waiting for this conversation, and she didn't warn Clarke.

Clarke closes the door.

"I didn't know you were _going to his house_ ," says Luna. "I thought you'd tell me if you were actually dating."

"We're not dating," Clarke says. She's getting a little tired of telling people this, honestly. "We're friends. I told you we were friends. The other freshmen are jealous! I didn't think it was a secret."

"It's not. That's part of the problem."

"I'm making us look bad," Clarke says, flat. "I got that." She levels a hard look at Luna. "Is she going to kick me out, or was that just supposed to scare me?"

"I honestly don't know. It might be the principle of the thing, now."

"And the principle is that she doesn't like Bellamy."

"The principle is that she told you to leave him alone, and you didn't."

"She didn't do a very good job. And he's a great guy." Clarke pauses, but--Luna's her big, and she does trust Luna. Even with all this bullshit. "If she makes me pick, I'm leaving. I didn't think she was like this, and if she is, I don't want to be here. If I can't choose my own friends, I'm done."

"Are you really not dating him?" Luna finally asks.

"Does it matter?"

"If you're dating, then the two of you are a set. He comes with you to parties, events. He reflects on everyone. I can see how Anya would be upset by that."

"I'm not dating him," she says. "But I'm not promising that I never will. And we're already a set."

Luna nods. "I think it would be unspeakably stupid of her to consider kicking you out because of this, and I've told her that. But if you were willing to hold back on seeing him for--"

"I just came from seeing him," says Clarke.

Luna huffs, but she's smiling. "Well, of course you did. I'm on your side, Clarke," she adds. "And Anya knows that."

It's nice to believe that, at least, and to believe it without difficulty. She thinks most people would be.

"It would look pretty bad for the sorority," Clarke points out. "No one wants to be the sorority that kicked someone out for associating with the wrong kind of people. Not when all that's wrong with him is that he's poor."

"And you wouldn't be quiet about it."

"Not at all," she says, with a tight smile. "Food for thought."

*

It keeps being a Thing She's Not Telling Bellamy, this odd loose end that feels less like a secret than unfinished business. If nothing ends up happening, she doesn't _have_ to tell him, and if she gets kicked out, he'll find out why. Knowing it's in consideration just makes his life shitty until the issue resolves itself, and that's already happening to her. There's no good reason to make him do it too.

But it does change her a little. Not in big ways, not in ways he seems to notice, but it makes a _difference_ , and she hates that. She makes sure to do more of the sorority activities, makes herself more of a presence. When Harper's big wants to set her up on a double date, Clarke agrees to go. The guy is an asshole and it goes nowhere, but she probably wouldn't have agreed at all if not for Anya's talk. And when Delta Nu has parties, Clarke goes to whatever party Anya is going to first, to make an appearance.

Even if she goes to Delta after and Bellamy seems to have no idea, it feels dishonest. And, worse than that, it feels like agreeing with them, giving some sort of validity to what Anya said.

But there is _some_ validity to it. The valid part has to do with Clarke being a more active part of Greek life, and all she has to do is figure out how to do that without feeling like doing better with that also implies she agrees about Bellamy.

Of course, in some way, that's the easiest part, because aside from spending a smaller percentage of her party evenings at Delta Nu, she's not giving up any time with him. On Tuesdays, she goes to the coffee shop and follows him and Octavia home to have dinner with them. She gets lunch at Mech. She texts him all the time.

She is kind of distressingly in love with him, and that might be the real reason she's putting off telling him about anything. It feels as if any conversation they have might suddenly veer into dangerous territory, like how everyone seems to think they're dating, and how she keeps having to say that they _aren't_ , but she's not going to rule out the possibility. Because then he can rule it out, and it's over. The embers of hope that live in her chest will be extinguished, and she'll have to live with the certainty that Bellamy isn't interested.

So she's not telling him. It's not a big deal. The semester is about to end and she has _finals_ ; she doesn't have time to think about this stuff anyway. He quizzes her for finals and plays beer pong with her in Delta Nu and assures her that she's not going to fail her first semester of college, and he invites her over for dinner to celebrate being done.

"Fancy," she teases, to cover up being genuinely a little emotional about it.

He rolls his eyes. "You're leaving like a day after finals, right? It's my turn to give you food before vacation. You brought coffee last time."

"And I'm going for a lot longer, so it makes sense to upgrade to dinner." She can't help a silly smile. "Don't make dessert, I'll bring something."

"Bring enough for O, she'll be around too."

"Sounds good."

He worries his lip, but then reaches over, putting one arm around her and squeezing quickly. It's not really a hug, but it's nice, this bright, warm burst of sensation: the warmth of his body, the smell of his cologne, the firm grip of his hand on her shoulder. She'd honestly like to live the rest of her life tucked into Bellamy Blake's side. It's the best place she's ever been. 

But he lets go all too soon, and gives her a gruff, "Good luck on your finals. See you on Thursday."

And then he's gone.

*

Octavia opens the door on Thursday and gives Clarke a wary look. "Did you get him a Christmas present?"

Clarke blinks a few times and then feels the flush creep up her neck as the question sinks in. "I did. Why?"

"Because he got you one and I was going to feel bad for him if you didn't. But you did, so we're good." She gives Clarke a grin. "Hi. I'm jealous you're already done with school."

"I think this is where I'm supposed to tell you that it's okay because college is harder than high school, but it's honestly not."

"No?"

"In some ways. But I only take four classes and it's so much less class time. And I get to wake up later. It's a lot better."

"At least I have something to look forward to. Bell's in the kitchen, I assume you can help him instead of me."

"I can help him, yeah."

"Awesome. See you at dinner."

She disappears upstairs, and Clarke takes a minute to appreciate the sight of Bellamy in the kitchen, all broad back and messy hair as he tries to do ten things at once.

"Octavia's making me help," she says, and he jumps.

"Shit, I didn't even hear the doorbell. Hi."

"Hi. You look incredibly busy."

He runs his hand through his hair. "It's a celebration. I'm going all-out."

"It's my first semester. If you go all out for this, I'm going to need a week-long cruise for graduation."

He gives her a slightly odd look, but it melts into a smile quickly enough. "To clarify, this is as good as it gets. Every time we have something to celebrate, I’m going to make you dinner. That's it. We're not going to escalate."

"I wasn't really expecting anything, so it's hard to be offended to find out you're going to cook me a nice meal whenever you feel like I deserve it instead of getting more and more elaborate."

"Yeah, when you put it like that, I guess I'm good. How'd the anatomy final go?"

Clarke's still not much of a cook, but she likes hanging out with Bellamy while he works. And she's gotten better at the prep side, chopping and measuring. She really likes measuring, not that Bellamy really does a lot of it. He just sort of tosses ingredients in and something delicious comes out. It's essentially magic.

She doesn't remember when she told him lasagna was her favorite food, but she clearly did, because he's making her lasagna with home-made garlic bread, and she's getting the salad ready. It's stupidly nice and domestic, and she's already reminding herself that this isn't a _thing_. He's her friend. That's it.

Octavia comes down to eat with them, and despite being _so_ full, she still manages to find room for two of the cookies Clarke brought.

"She did get you a Christmas present, by the way," Octavia adds, snagging a third cookie. "So you don't have to feel weird."

"I didn't feel weird until you brought it up," he grumbles, but Clarke can see the red creeping up his neck.

"Uh huh. I've got homework to do. See you next year, Clarke! Merry early Christmas."

"You too."

"The present thing really isn't a big deal," Bellamy tells her, once they're alone. "Don't let Octavia get your hopes up about quality."

"I don't care. Dinner would have been fine."

"But you got me something."

"Don't get your hopes up about quality either," she warns. "It's nothing big."

"Glad neither of us went over the top," he says, and hands her a bag. It's blue and sparkly with a spray of gold tissue paper coming out the top, and she has to smile. Somehow she's not surprised that wrapping isn't his forte.

She gets her own crisply wrapped package out of her purse, presenting it to him.

"Nice paper," he teases, and she smiles wider.

"Every year I just find the fanciest paper I can that says nothing but _ho ho ho_ on it. It makes my grandmother furious. She says it's inappropriate but refuses to tell me why when I pretend not to know."

He laughs. "You're such a dick."

"Takes one to know one."

"Yeah, I feel completely qualified then. You're a total dick."

"Shut up. Open your present."

It really isn't very exciting; she wasn't just being humble. They were talking and he said he hadn't read _His Dark Materials_ , and Clarke not only loves it, but also thinks he'll love it, so she got him the trilogy. He likes books; it should make him happy.

He grins at the title, flips through the first book with what looks like genuine delight. 

"I reserved this at the library, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But this is easier." He looks up from the book to smile at her. "Thanks, seriously. I'd been looking forward to reading them." He jerks his chin at the bag in her lap. "Your turn."

She pulls the tissue paper out and finds the contents of the bag come with it, and when she parts the sheets, she lets out a surprised laugh.

"For your edification," he says, sounding smug, and she picks up the top DVD, _Sydney White_ , with a shake of her head.

"You're such a dork."

"You need to learn the truth about sorority life, Clarke."

" _Legally Blonde_ isn't really about sororities."

"It's aspirational."

The last DVD is called _Sorority of Sex III_ and the two girls on the cover are so buxom and pouty that she nearly chokes on her laughter.

"That one teaches you how to be bisexual," he says. "Judging from the online reviews, all of the characters are very free with their sexualities."

"I can't believe you bought me sorority-girl porn," she says, still trying to regain her breath.

"You said you liked frat boy porn, so--"

"It's so sweet of you to remember my smut preferences." She looks down at the pile of DVDs. "This is perfect, though. Thank you."

"You too." He clears his throat. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"After lunch."

He nods. "Cool. Have a safe flight." 

"Why are you saying goodbye now? I know you're going to walk me back to campus."

"Because I'm awkward," he says.

"Yeah, that sounds right." She checks her phone. "I definitely have time to watch _Legally Blonde_ before I have to go back."

"Not _Sorority of Sex III_?" he teases.

"I haven't seen the first two. I'm worried about following the plot."

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure the _Sorority of Sex_ series is heavy on the continuity. We should definitely do _Legally Blonde_."

He falls asleep about an hour in, and Clarke tries to remember what he said he had going on this week. She knows he picked up a couple extra shifts at the coffee shop; he's probably exhausted.

And he still insisted on doing this for her.

For a second, she thinks about not trying to wake him up when the movie finishes, but he wouldn't consider it a favor if she left him to sleep and walked home alone. 

He blinks awake slowly when she shakes him, and her breath catches a little at the sight. She never forgets how attractive Bellamy is, but--sometimes she remembers _a lot_.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asks, voice rough.

"Yup."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I watched without you."

"As long as you had fun."

She smiles. “I had fun. I was going to let you sleep, but I was pretty sure if you woke up and I was gone, you'd panic.”

“Safe bet.”

She reclaims her DVD and gets her shoes and coat on, and Bellamy yells at his sister that he'll be back in half an hour. The night is crisp and it's snowing a little, and Clarke has to admit the whole thing is a little romantic.

"Do you guys do anything special for Christmas?" she asks.

"The usual stuff. We're getting a tree this weekend. I'll buy O a bunch of presents and she'll say her presence in my life is all the gift I should need?"

Clarke frowns. "Really?"

"No, she'll get me something. But I control most of the wealth in the house, so I buy the presents."

"You should get yourself something nice."

"I'm good, Clarke. What about you, Christmas traditions? Aside from scandalizing your grandmother."

Talking about the holidays gets them through to Greek row, and Bellamy hesitates there. They never talk about it, but he never walks her _home_. He just gets close enough, without actually coming to the Sig-Kap house.

It's so fucking stupid.

"You know, if you're going to walk me back, you might as well make sure I actually get home. Knowing rates of assault on college campuses, this is probably the most dangerous stretch of my trip."

"Yeah, probably." He clears his throat, but doesn't say anything more, just stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts walking towards the Sig-Kap house, and Clarke follows him.

He doesn't go up to the door, but lingers at the end of the walkway with her, half a smile playing on his lips. 

"So, you're back like--early January?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Have a good break. Merry Christmas, happy--"

Clarke reaches up to wrap her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. He stiffens for a second, surprised, but his recovery is quick and he relaxes into it, hugging back and burying his face in her hair.

"Try to take three consecutive days off, okay?"

"No promises." He lets her go with a final squeeze. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year."

He waits until she's inside to turn and start back home, and Clarke is just--she's done with this.

It's not worth it.

Luckily, Anya's door is open and she's inside. Clarke knocks on the door jamb, and, at her nod, goes in and shuts the door behind her.

"Yes?" 

Clarke considers her. "I thought about your question. About what I'd do, if I had to choose between the sorority and Bellamy."

"And?"

"And I don't want to be here if you think it's your right to tell me who I can and cannot be friends with. If you think it's appropriate to tell me to ditch Bellamy and I do it, who's next? Raven? Monty? Miller?"

Anya nods, as if she's taking this in. "So, you don't want to set the precedent."

"And I don't want to sneak around to see my friend. I could tell you I'm ditching him, but I'm not going to. He's been just as good to me as this sorority has. And if you think I should throw that away, then, yeah. I shouldn't be a part of this house."

There's another pause as Anya thinks it over, and Clarke figures she should drive the point home.

"This isn't negotiable for me. If you tell me this isn't a problem, it can't ever be a problem. I don't want to have to be worrying about being seen with him or--"

"I understand," says Anya. She nods. "You're right. It was unfair of me to act as if it was reasonable for me to ask you to make that choice."

"And I'd probably be a better member of the sorority if I wasn't trying to keep my best friend from interacting with all of you."

Anya's mouth tugs up in half a smile. "I suppose that might help, yes."

"So I'll have a place to live when I come back from vacation?"

"Yes." She considers. "And Bellamy is welcome here, if he'd like to come."

"I doubt it," she says. "But I'll keep that in mind."

*

She comes out to her mother a few days after she gets home, primarily so that if she wants to come out to piss off her grandmother, her mother won't be blindsided by the announcement. Abby takes it in stride, thanks Clarke for telling her, asks if she has a girlfriend or a boyfriend at college.

"No one yet," says Clarke, smiling. "Just figuring stuff out."

"I'm happy for you," says her mother.

When she tells Bellamy about it, he just replies, _I should have known you'd come out for spite_ , and she has to correct him that it's coming out _in preparation_ of spite, which he says makes even more sense.

They've been texting a lot, of course. Even if she misses him, it's not as if they're separated. The dining hall is closed, but he's picking up a bunch of weird extra shifts at his other jobs, and he has stories and complaints from those. Clarke tells him about how much Netflix she's watching, and he tells her he hates her.

She wishes she were watching Netflix on campus, and that he was coming by after his shifts to join her.

Christmas itself is the same as ever; Clarke clashes with her grandmother, gets a lot of clothes she'll never wear and DVDs that she'll return for store credit, and wishes she could get drunk. She texts Bellamy about how stupidly rich everyone is, and he tells her to steal an heirloom for him to sell on eBay.

She hangs out with Wells and her other high-school friends for New Year's, and it's fun, if a little surreal. Aside from Wells, she hasn't really kept in touch with anyone, and they're all acting like it's been years since they saw each other, rather than just a few months.

But it does _feel_ like years. It feels like a long time that she's been gone.

"Who's the guy?" Wells asks her. It's 11:34 and she's stopped pretending she's really interacting with the actual party. She's just texting until it's midnight and she can go.

"It could be a girl," she says. "I'm bisexual."

"Cool. Who's the person?"

"Just a friend. His name's Bellamy."

"How'd you meet?"

Clarke's just been saying he's a friend from school when people ask, and it's another one of those truths that feels like a lie.

"At a frat party. He's not in college, he's working to support his sister until she starts school. But one of his friends is president of a frat, so he hangs out with them."

Wells is frowning. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-one. He's not interested," she adds. "It's not like that."

"But you are," Wells says. "Interested."

"Yeah, I am." She smiles. "No big deal."

Her phone buzzes, and Wells looks at it. "Has he said he's not interested?"

"Not exactly. But--I don't want to screw things up, and I'm pretty sure he's not looking for that from me."

"Maybe not," he agrees, inclining his head. "But you're going to regret it if you never ask."

Clarke checks the text-- _Miller is drunkenly ranting about your friend Monty, so that should happen_ \--and smiles.

"I'm good," she says, and means it. "We've got time."

*

It's not like she hadn't thought about telling Bellamy how she felt before. But it's not easy, to just say something like that. It feels like she should build to it.

Which is why she decides she should tell him about the sorority thing. He'll want to know he's welcome at Sig-Kap now, and he is. He'll want to get why she's not worried anymore. And part of her wants him to know that she chose him, that she was willing to give this up. It's a selfish thought, but it's there all the same.

That's her plan, when she goes over to his house after she gets back from break. They'll hang out, chat, she'll fill him in on the Greek row drama, and if that conversation lets her bring up casually how people keep assuming they're dating and how she really wouldn't mind if they _were_ dating, she won't mind.

It's a solid plan, and she's all about it, and then he opens the door, his hair a mess, his glasses crooked, and his smile wide, and she just says, "Hi, I'm in love with you."

For a second, it feels like whole world stops. She's frozen, Bellamy is frozen, everything is still.

Then the embarrassment sets in and she feels the heat rush up her neck to her cheeks.

"Sorry," she adds. "That really wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to--" 

And then Bellamy recovers all at once. He laughs, bright and surprised, and cups her face in his hands and kisses her.

It's not the best kiss ever, because he's _grinning_ , and it's hard to kiss someone that seriously when you're grinning. And Clarke isn't sure how to respond at first either, too surprised to do anything at all. And then _she's_ smiling, and trying to put her hands somewhere, and it's just kind of a mess, honestly.

But the fact that it's happening is such a profound relief, and the whole thing is so absurd, that she just laughs, and Bellamy gives up and wraps her up in his arms, tugging her inside.

"Whatever else you were going to say, I hope you meant that," he tells her.

"Yeah."

"Good. I, uh--fuck, Clarke. I'm crazy about you. I missed you so much. And I'm--"

"You're in the _living room_ ," says Octavia, pointed, and the two of them startle apart. "Hi, Clarke," she adds, looking smug on the couch. "Bell has _his own room_. You guys don't have to make out in front of me."

"We're not--" Bellamy starts, and then seems to reconsider. "I guess privacy wouldn't be bad?" he offers, like this is a question. Like Clarke wants to do anything but drag him somewhere so he can tell her in detail how he feels.

He's _crazy about her_ , for a start.

She laces their fingers together, tugging him gently, and that seems to be enough for him. 

"Yeah, cool, I have a bedroom," he says, and takes the lead, pulling her upstairs.

"Happy New Year, Octavia!" Clarke calls over her shoulder, and Octavia just yells back, "Use protection!"

Bellamy's room isn't a place Clarke really goes, but she does like it from what little she's seen. It's warm and clean and feels like him, all full of books and earth tones. And she likes it even more when he closes the door behind them when they go in, when he smiles at her all hopeful and nervous.

"Welcome home," he says, and she slides her arms around his neck and kisses him again.

His hands settle on her hips, holding her close, and his mouth now is surer, firmer, and _serious_. Bellamy is committed to kissing her and _just_ kissing her, and now it's Clarke who's too giddy to be very good at it. 

"Sorry," she says, when she laughs. "I just--"

Her stomach swoops as he solves the problem by moving his mouth to her neck. "Yeah," he says. "I can't believe it either." She almost whines when he pulls back, and he grins. "Sorry, I thought we should maybe talk."

"We talk _all the time_ , Bellamy. We never make out."

"Yeah, uh, we're going to make out a lot more," he says. "Like--as much as you want. I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

"Oh."

He smooths her hair back from her forehead, smiling. "My page is definitely that I'm in love with you, don't worry."

"Anya asked me if I'd pick you or the sorority, if I had to pick," says Clarke. "As a hypothetical. That's what I was going to tell you before."

"Jesus, that's a fucked up hypothetical."

"Yeah, I told her that just making me choose was pretty much all the reason I needed to not pick her."

"So are you, uh--"

"She agreed it was fucked up. I told her I'd probably be more connected with the sorority if I wasn't paranoid about them being dicks to you, and she agreed with that too. I didn't tell her I was in love with you, but everyone just kind of assumes."

"I didn't think I was being subtle," he teases. "Come on, Clarke. You're the only reason I even go to Delta Nu parties anymore. Just to see you."

"You don't need to come to frat parties to see me." She pauses. "But you might need to come to sorority parties to keep dating me."

"I've barely started dating you."

She grins. "Is the sorority a deal breaker? Do I have to pick between you and them?"

"No way." He leans in and kisses her again, and they're getting better at this every time. "I don't give a shit how many mixers you drag me to. As long as you don't care that I'll skip a bunch of them for work."

"No." She tugs him toward the bed. "Are we done with talking? You good?"

He laughs and crowds her onto the bed for a long, warm kiss.

"So good," he murmurs. "Perfect."

*

She'd like to say the awkwardness is done, but it keeps coming back in fits and starts. There's some expected resentment that Clarke managed to charm Bellamy, when no one else could, which seems weird to Clarke, but she understands that rejection makes people grumpy and mean, sometimes.

And plenty of other people want to congratulate her for finallygetting him to settle down, which is honestly about as awkward. As far as Clarke's concerned, she hasn't done anything special or worth remarking on. She has a boyfriend.

"Yeah, but I was forbidden fruit," says Bellamy.

"Forbidden fruit? That's what you're going with?"

"Good for sex, not for dating. In porn terms, the pool boy.”

"Plenty of them would have dated you."

His smile is a little crooked, the kind of smile she knows he doesn't totally _mean_. "They would have tried. It wouldn't have lasted past, you know, meeting their parents. Maybe not even just pressure from their friends."

Clarke smiles, leans up for a kiss. "I want you to meet my family. I can't _wait_ for you to experience my grandmother's racism live and in person."

He snorts. "Yeah, that's going to be really fun."

"It might finally turn the rest of the family against her. The bisexuality thing hasn't yet."

"Anything I can do to help."

"I just want everyone to stop acting like it's some--life hack. I didn't do anything special."

"You were cute and drunk and I liked you," Bellamy shoots back. "I'm not saying you performed miracles or anything, but it's not like they're wrong. Four years, and you're the person I fell in love with. You're the only one."

"Stop trying to distract me from my indignation by being in love with me," she grumbles, and he laughs and kisses her shoulder.

"Sorry. Everyone's a dick and they should shut up about how special and amazing you are."

"Much better."

It's not like it bothers her that much, not compared to people making pointed comments about how he's still working at the dining hall or asking if he's picked a major yet. But as time goes by, the questions become less pointed, and everyone either starts to forget or never knew that Bellamy Blake was anything other than another guy on campus. Octavia gets into college, Bellamy fits night classes of his own into his schedule, and he's around less, but he's so much happier, Clarke can't bring herself to mind even a little.

It's at one of the rare Delta Nu parties he can actually fit into his schedule during her junior year, playing beer pong with Miller, who hasn't let switching from college to grad school dull his drinking game skills, when Clarke overhears two girls talking in the line for the bathroom.

"Who are the hot guys playing beer pong?"

"I don't know, but there are two of them, so--"

"Don't bother," says someone else. "Bellamy's taken and Miller is gay and taken."

"Okay, but there's taken, and then there's--"

"He's practically married to Clarke Griffin from Sigma Kappa. Seriously, they've been together _forever_. Don't even try. It's pointless."

Clarke manages to wait until he's done with beer pong to tuck herself into his side and beam.

"How drunk are you?" he teases.

"Not at all. Did you know you're undateable?"

"I thought I was, but you seem to have it figured out."

"I just heard three girls talking about how you're off limits with no references to employment or sexual prowess."

"Have you really been monitoring that?"

She worries her lip. "Not on purpose. Just--I heard about how we'd never last and how I was slumming it and how it was just sex for way too long to not be excited we've upgraded to basically married and completely inseparable."

"So, you're saying after two years the rest of Greek life finally figured out I love you?"

"Pretty much."

He laughs, leans down and kisses her. "Cool. Took them long enough. I didn't think it was that hard."

"You know rich kids," she says. "Always overthinking things."

"Good thing you've got me to ground you."

She leans her head on his shoulder. "Good thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12805521/chapters/29453448)!


End file.
